


The Boy With the Thorn in His Side

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers when Wormtail was Peter, and he was Severus, and they were kids, both lost, lonely; and in love with James Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy With the Thorn in His Side

_Behind the hatred there lies  
A plundering desire for love_  
\- The Boy With the Thorn in His Side, The Smiths

 **Spinner's End, 1996**

Severus' lip curls in disgust as Wormtail potters about in the kitchen. Glasses clink and harried muttering escapes his lips and Severus thinks:

 _How did I get here?_

How did _we_ get here?

He remembers when Wormtail was more than the Dark Lord's errand boy; a toy to be used and discarded and, ultimately, forgotten.

He remembers when Wormtail was Peter, and he was Severus, and they were kids, both lost, lonely; and in love with James Potter.

*

 **Hogwarts, 1976**

He isn't sure when he first notices it; the way Pettigrew is around Potter. He isn't at all sure, but he knows that there is something there: in the way that Pettigrew follows him, his stubby little legs skipping, struggling to keep pace with Potter's long strides; in the way that Pettigrew _fauns_ over him.

In the way that Potter doesn't notice any of it; at all (or, if he does, he's pretending not to).

Severus knows because he's seen it before.

He sees it every day, he feels it.

He sees it in Peter, what he sees in himself; and what he sees in James. Or, rather, what seeing James ignites: desire; raging beneath the sickly pallor of his exterior. It burns within Severus, and when it does, Severus thinks: he has taken something from me. In some ways, he has taken everything, snatched them away from Severus' grasp. Possibility and pleasure, they begin and end with James, with the idea of him. But they never can be what Severus wants them to – even as it pains him to admit the existence of such feeling.

Severus sees it, and he feels it, and as he watches James and Peter, he knows that Peter feels it too.

Somehow, none of it seems fair: that James should be so loved.

At that moment, all Severus wants to do is take it from him.

*

They are walking down the corridor when Severus sees them: Potter, Pettigrew, Lupin and Black.

They are walking down the corridor when Severus decides.

They brush past him, and in the crush, Pettigrew loses his grip on his books. They tumble from his arms and land with a reverberating _thud!_ on the cold, stone floor.

"Oi!" Peter says, turning on his heel to face Severus. The others, lost in their incessant chat and mindless laughter, walk on. Severus sees Potter look back over his shoulder at he and Peter standing in the hall and he sees the look that crosses his irritatingly boyish features. He sees the question in Potter's face : _do I turn back?_ ; and the answer in his eyes.

This is going to be easier than he imagined.

"Oi!" Peter says again, more loudly this time; determined to draw Severus' attention. "Just where do you think you're going, Snivellus? Pick those up."

Peter stares at Severus, and Severus can see that he is trying – oh, _Merlin_ , how he's trying – to be intimidating.

Severus stands still, and says nothing.

"I said," Peter begins, advancing on Severus with his hands on his hips, "pick those up." He looks, Severus thinks, a little like a teapot.

"Perhaps you should get your friends to help you."

"Perhaps _you_ should do it, you greasy, snivelling git," Peter counters.

"Me? Snivelling?"

"That's what I said. Is all that filth from your disgusting hair clogging up your great, flapping ears or something?"

"Have you seen the way you look when you follow Potter around?" Severus says, drawing Peter's gaze. He lowers his voice when he speaks again: "I've never seen anything so ridiculous in all my life."

"Shut your face," Peter hisses.

"What? Hitting a little too close to home, am I?"

"Piss off," Peter says. He looks away and squats down to collect his things; short, thick fingers and dirty nails scrabbling at his books and parchment. "What would you know about it anyway, Snape?"

Watching as Peter rights himself, cradling his things in his folded arms, Severus smirks. "I know," he says, "that he doesn't even _see_ you, Pettigrew. I mean, you were always going to come in behind Black, but _Lupin?_ Merlin's sake, the _half-breed_ gets more from Potter than you do."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Peter says, and his voice cracks, betraying the set jaw and attempted steely gaze of his stoic facade.

*

Severus is in the library, writing, when he feels it; the weight of another's eyes on him, boring into his back. With quill in hand, he pauses mid-stroke and the scratching of the nib on parchment fades, like a strangled cry against a backdrop of eerie silence.

"What are you doing?" Severus asks, without turning to see who is looking at him. He doesn't need to turn, to look. He knows.

Silence.

"Pettigrew," Severus says, placing his quill down on the desk. "I know you're there. What are you doing?"

Severus hears the shuffle of footsteps behind him: Pettigrew is moving closer, closer, but he does not move to stand before Severus; to confront him.

"I just wanted to tell you ..."

"Yes?"

"You're wrong. About James. And me. You're wrong."

Severus says nothing; merely bows his head and gazes at the parchment on the desk in front of him; at the ink, black and murky, bleeding against the grain, fanning out like a bruise beneath the skin. He almost wishes he was wrong about Potter and Pettigrew and the whole damn thing – he knows how much Pettigrew is hurting, and what it is to want James Potter, and to not be seen (at least, not in the way you want to be seen; it's never the way you want to be seen).

But Severus knows that he isn't wrong.

He _knows_.

And he says nothing in the days and weeks that follow, when Peter finds him in the library and, sitting at a distance, he stares.

*

"It happened. After Quidditch," Peter says from behind him (he is always behind Severus in the library; always).

Severus swivels around in his seat. Small, black eyes searching Peter's plump, pink-cheeked face. He wants to ask: "What? What happened?" but knows he will not need to; that Peter will tell him, that Peter _is_ telling him.

"One day. After practice, I think it was. Not a match. We were in the rooms – me and James – and ..." Peter's voice fades, becomes nothing and turns his face away. He stares at the floor, at his shoes, at anywhere but at Severus.

Groaning, Severus rises from his seat and walks to where Peter stands, blushing furiously (it is not a gentle blush, not at all; it is fierce and shameful and the kind of blush that feels like it might just _burn_ you from the inside out). He puts a consoling hand on Peter's shoulder.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he says, and Peter looks up at him, warm brown eyes brimming with tears, and he nods.

"Yeah," he chokes, "it hurts."

*

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Snivellus?" James calls out to Severus as he walks to the greenhouses.

Clutching his things to his chest, Severus speeds up. He pretends not to have heard.

"Oi!" James yells. "I'm talking to you!" He takes off after Severus and, moments later, can feel the warm grip of James' fingers on his wrist, tugging him backwards.

"I asked you a question," James says, spinning Severus around to face him and causing him to stumble. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Going to the greenhouses," Severus answers.

"Not _now_ , you tosser. With Peter. What do you think you're doing with Peter?"

"What the _hell_ makes you think I'd want _anything_ to do with one of your pathetic lackeys, Potter?"

"Fucked if I know, Snape," James spits, "but if you want nought to do with him, maybe you can explain to me what's been happening in the library."

"I don't have to explain _anything_ to you, you arrogant, selfish _prick_ ," Severus says, pushing the words out between clenched teeth. He turns to leave, but doesn't get more than two paces before James is on him again.

"I'm _talking_ to you, Snape!"

Severus shrugs off James' touch. "No, you're not," he says. "I'm going to the greenhouses, and you're going to bloody well _sod off_ , Potter."

With that, Severus storms off to the greenhouses: all he can hear is the raucous _ta-tum, ta-tum_ of his heartbeat thundering in his ears, and shards of James' angry voice cutting through the air, and each time they do he clutches at his wrist – the place where James held him, if only for a moment – and blinks back the tears.

*

It is not long after when he seeks out Peter: Peter, who has been closer to James than Severus could ever hope to be (it makes him sick; he's so pathetic is Peter) and if Severus shuts his eyes tight enough and Peter doesn't speak and he forgets _(forgetforgetforget)_ it could almost, almost, almost –

But it never quite is.

*

 **Spinner's End, 1996**

Severus opens his eyes. He is still here: in his grimy robes in his creaking chair in his weathered house; smothered in a palpable sadness.

And Wormtail is still clattering about.

With a groan, Severus gets to his feet and goes to the kitchen. He nudges the door open a fraction – enough to be heard, but not enough to see (or be seen by) Wormtail.

"Peter," Severus says quietly (Peter, Peter; he remembers when he was Peter).

"Y-yes?"

"Come upstairs."

It is an order. One that Severus knows will be followed (Peter will follow; he will always follow) and when it is, and they are together, grasping and grunting and trying not to remember how they came to be here _(forgetforgetforget)_ it could almost be, _almost, almost, almost -_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Snapely Holidays 2010.


End file.
